


Pradeshverse

by Desna1, Nightmare Senshi (Saraphin)



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Pradeshverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 08:20:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17721584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desna1/pseuds/Desna1, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraphin/pseuds/Nightmare%20Senshi
Summary: The magics and Characters of the stories centered around Bickslow and his Boscan family formed by his adoptive father. Arman Pradesh





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nightmare Senshi (Saraphin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraphin/gifts), [Awesomemedic78](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awesomemedic78/gifts), [BlasphemousOrder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlasphemousOrder/gifts).



“This can’t continue…” Sei-Roo frowned at the gazing pool, the senior constellations scattered around the area, also watching as war raged on the plane of Earthland, as it had been doing for nearly 10 years.

Magic was straining, light was struggling against evil dark, and the demons had a firm gate and were coming in droves to wipe all traces of light from the magic rich, resource wealthy plane. The fall of it would be disastrous, some of the Celestial planes finest mortal lines were there, chosen of the stars and the three Gods of the heavens, Mehturt, the mother, Ra of the light and Set of the darkness.

“The mother gave you permission my king to create a magic born of the heavenly planes...you have not yet done so, you have relied on the magics created by the three.” Capricorn pointed out.

“Indeed, we could create a power magic, to defend the heavenly planes and interact with the mortal ones, bind it to the mages of light, celestial and holy magics so it’s coming would enhance the magics already there.” Cassiopeia said eagerly.

“Bind? Why bind them? They could freely boost the others..” Leo protested.

“Nonense, you see how the mortals are, they fight over too much, if left to pick who they wish to support they’ll squander the gift for foolish reasons, no, this magic...it should be bound, like Dragon Slayers, they should have mates…” Cassiopeia said thinking more seriously and warming more and more to the idea.

“The idea pleases me, we already work with the Archangels of Kingdom plane, I would like to create a magic that makes a mortal mage, an Archangel.” Sei-Roo said, warming to the idea quickly.

“Yes, holy magic, we will found them with three types from which all of their varieties of magic will stem, and I want variety. The will be stars, Morning, Mid-day and Evening, ageless as their reward for protecting the heavens.” Sei-Roo began and then it started. For nearly 5 years they worked, trying to hurry along watching the war rage on, seeing the Celestial mages they coveted struggle...fall...The forces of evil rising, sensing victory.

Cassiopeia was the most secretive about her parts of the forging, Sei-Roo wanted love to be part of it, the One magic was the strongest of all, and while it could not be tapped, designing a magic so it would need to be there? He felt it was the finest way to assure his creation would be strong.

When the three came to finalize it, to bless it upon Earthland, Mehturt had hesitated. “Are you sure of all of it?’ She’d asked and Sei-Roo had bowed “We are High Mother.” He’d replied and Set and Ra had come to the mothers sides and the three had placed the magic into Earthland.  
Morning Stars would be of the dawn, their magic based in renewal, life, dawn bathes the world in new possibilities and reveals the world once hidden by nights veil, so to would all magic that developed through the Morning Stars. Blessed of Ra with his white and silver light of dawn they would be the greatest minds of the magic and the first was the son of a Light and Holy mage. Jacamar had clear pale purple eyes and shimmering platinum blonde hair, forever forward he, and in the event of his death, any foundation Morning Stars after him would be like this.

Mid-Day Stars would be of the high sun of day. Their magic based in the brightest and hottest fires to both light the Earth and reveal all that might hide in darkness, and to vanquish all dark things that may try to stand against the light. Life, strength, wisdom born under the light of day and steadfast, dauntless drive would be the foundations of their magics. The first, Galasfriel, was the son of a Celestial Summoner and a Light mage, the Pradesh line now became part of the magic, blessed with it in him with his honey blonde hair and clear blue eyes. Forever forward, a foundation Mid-Day star would be such.

Evening Stars, blessed of Set would be of the night. Wings as dark as the space between stars, their magic would contain the cutting edge of where light meets dark and they could go into the places light could not and drag evil to the light for judgement. No lie could be said to them, they would know and if needed, they could compel the blackest evil to speak only truth. Strength, courage, all the power of the night was the base of their magic. The first, Kayliss, had mahogany hair, touched in places by the light and eyes like a dark amethyst with specks of the gold of day. Son of a Celestial Body mage and a Holy mage he was quiet, calm, and utterly merciless but ever fair. Forever going forward, founding Evening Stars would be like this.

There had to be three foundations for the magic to take hold, always they would be males, so that seed could be spread, children born across more than one mother if needed to see the magic grow. From the three foundation Archangels, all others would see their magic spread and diversify, only the founding Triad holding the magic in its purest form. Once in place, those with the blood dormant within them could be awakened more easily, and magic could be more personal from one Archangel to another, allowing for tremendous growth and diversity through the magic type so long as the Triad was in place.

Archangel mages would not be immortal, they could die, but they were ageless, ceasing aging in their early 20s usually when they took their first mate. Their first mate would always be the most blessed by their magic.

This was where Cassiopeia wore her smug smile as they watched the magic grow, watched mages come into it and grow up and start living lives, join the fighting.

To assure the spread of the magic, to let it grow, those who bore it had to be prolific, so, Cassiopeia instilled in them a compulsion to seek out Celestial, Holy or Light mages, that their magic could be bound to them. Binding an Archangel gave the mage doing it a boost of magic power, Archangel mages had large magic containers, high speed refill rates, a mage bound to them could use this so in prolonged battles, they were not left unable to fight,. Too weak to go on. To bind the Archangel they had to overcome them, something made easier by the Archangels built in need for a connection with Celestial, Light, or Holy magic other than their own. Once held down, the Angel was taken while the Mage taking them spoke their intentions to bind them, demanded their submission, and the Archangels would be compelled by their magic to submit, to allow themselves to be taken, because their own magic needed it.

A bound Archangel gave what was demanded of them, no negative feedback would come from them to their “Master” but they could serve as a buffer of those things for their Master. Imposing their will upon the Archangel required far more effort with a bound Archangel than one a mage was actually mated with.

Mating was necessary, the magic was hereditary and could not be gifted, blessed, or bestowed once placed upon Earthland, the high mother Mehturt made it so, as it was a strong magic, difficult to master that cancelled out other kinds, only working at it from birth would allow a mage to be any good with it. Cassiopeia placed within it, a powerful need to accept a mate, so that when approached, when faced with love, they would act instead of retreat. It was important Archangels found their loves for love made them remarkable, a mated Archangel would come fully into their magic, and with their mate, could do remarkable things.

The mate could pull the Archangel to them through their bond, in times of danger or severe need, no matter where the Archangel was, no matter the distance or magic, the bond of the One magic allowed the mage to bring their Archangel to their side. 

Archangels could work alongside Celestial beings, bolster their power and abilities, and a mated Archangel could follow a celestial spirit right into the celestial realms, and perform magic at the highest levels there when needed, could call upon the spirits of any key their mage held and while no Archangel could form or hold a contract with a celestial spirit, they would know one on sight, could sense their keys at great distances, and even without their mate present, could call upon their spirits and the spirits could chose to answer their call...understanding if they refused it...the Archangel might show up in the celestial realms wanting to know why…

It was believed at first they had done incredibly well. The magic flourished for the first hundred years, and the forces of evil were driven back and finally defeated, locked away by the four seals from returning to Earthland again.

Trouble though began when mages started fighting over Archangels, a mated Archangel could, if their mage was defeated in a formal duel...be taken. Archangels overwhelmed by the grief of loss, unable to fight their mates killer because of the laws of those celestial duels were easy to force into a new mating, though the second was never anywhere near as powerful as the first. They could be both mated to a mage, and bound to another and...mages learned, they could keep up to three Archangel mates, one of each star type, and...could bind as many as they wished….  
It created the possibility of immense power for mages, and...greed within mortals was tremendous. The desire for everlasting life, for limitless power…

Archangels became hunted, friends killed friends over them, brothers killed sisters and parents, in time, Archangels began to dwindle, children born with the magic bound as soon as they were old enough to be, which was around 15 and people would hover and wait for the day that mage was suddenly receptive. The magic lived for close to 500 years before it finally was gone, the last vestiges of the endless wars behind them, the last remaining of the original Triad were Jacamar and Galasfriel, Kayliss having taken his own life after 300 years of watching his children suffer, when one day a group of mages managed to get his first mate, he had told her loved her as she had refused to duel, forced the men to kill her and...before they could take him, bind him and crush his will, Kayliss, tore open a gate to the 9th plane of hell and took the men there, and never returned.

Jacamar was on his second mate,had warmed many beds, fathered many children, but when she was killed for refusing a duel, he let himself die, taking her spirit with him to become the star all Archangels became when they left their mortal lives.

Galasfriel was prolific, fathered countless children in the 500 years he lived on Earthland before he finally abandoned Earthland, refusing to ever be mated, having gone so far as to kill a few mages who had tried to take him and his departure was the end of the magic. Though the seeds remained within the bloodlines of Earthland, and Sei-Roo watched and prayed...it would be born again one day before darkness could gain a hold in Earthland again…..


	2. Presca Martel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Origin of Presca Martel, Vander Pradesh's closest friend and partner

“I...I didn’t do anything...Momma? Momma please! I didn’t hurt anyone!!” The wail made the womans gray eyes brim with tears and she squeezed them shut, rough hands jerked her away, pulling her into a firm chest. 

“He’s an abomination...don’t look...we’ll have another...the next one will be blessed, we’ll go through the rites and ceremonies to protect us this time...let them take him…” Her husbands shaking voice was no comfort, and she looked again, seeing her 5 year old son being thrown to the ground by the clans priests.

“Silence Demon!! You drain life, you are an affront to the Gods!!” The high priest cried and his staff caught the boy in the shoulder and he screamed in pain.

“No! Stop!! Momma!!!” He cried as the men started beating him. She watched, listened for a few moments more then screamed, tearing away from her husband and throwing herself over her sobbing now bleeding child…

“Stand away Kita, or has he corrupted you? Was it darkness in you that made this happen, that brought this demon into our clan?” The priest sneered and Kita looked over her sobbing child, his little arm was broken now by a harsh kick from one of the men, and he was bleeding an eye already swollen shut...they would beat him to death if she let them….she gathered him to her.

“No...no this is wrong...he’s only a child...you’ve no proof he’s evil, the other boy just got tired...he’s fine now…” She protested and the Priest struck her with his staff and that was all she needed to stagger and run for all she was worth, clutching her child to her chest.

“Get her! Kill them BOTH!!” The high priest cried.

“Kita! Kita no! Let them have him!!” Her husband cried but she ignored him, she wouldn’t let them do this, she didn’t believe them…

Her husband ran after them all, and when they reached the river, swollen and raging in a torrent down the mountain toward the Grass Sea several dozen miles away there was another fight, Kita was trapped, she couldn’t hope to survive crossing the river holding her injured child, it was deep and churning with the thawed snow of the Stargazer mountains in this early part of spring.

The Priest reached her first and struck her, his staff hitting the side of her head and sending her spinning, her child, barely conscious, bleeding and badly injured flew from her arms and she screamed as she saw him tumble into the river, she tried to follow, tried to scramble to her feet but another man reached her and joined the priest in beating her “Let the river have the demon!!” The Priest cried “You will die for mothering such a beast since it is clear you condone his existence!!” 

“NO!” Her husband was a big man, strong, and he tore into the other men, trying to protect her, his magic flaring, the Earth trembling beneath them, rocks flying at and striking the men and for a few moments Kita had hope, her husband would fight them off and they could escape, follow the river...maybe save their son and flee…

But there were 8 strong men, more coming, and she screamed in anguish as she saw one arrive with a sword and drive it through her husbands back..

“Kita...I...I’m sorry…” He breathed out his last, his chocolate colored hair falling over his face as he went down and she wailed...but not for long...because then the men were on her….

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Gregan was working his nets, with the thaw the stardancer salmon would be spawning and the chance to gather them, he would sell normally about half of what he caught and then either freeze or salt the rest for use through the year. Stargazer Salmon were decidedly one of his favorite meals too.

He worked as a groundskeeper for the Academe Celestine and his wife was a housekeeper, they were particularly strong mages themselves but they were happy living in Cellis and while they had not been blessed with children of their own, they both worked with children daily at the school and dealt with it.

They had been to healers, doctors, even witches and priests and such...children simply were not something they could have. Adoption was something they were looking into, but they were busy people, this summer during the break from classes at the school they planned to travel to Pelerno and pursue adoption more.

His nets were up, he sighed, one had broken and was washed ashore...some lump of something in it...he really needed to not leave them out at night, only work them when he could stand by them, the thaw was in full force, the river coming in a torrent, and spilling into the grass sea, he knew better, he was just getting older and tended to be a little lazy at times.

As he got closer his brown eyes narrowed realizing it wasn’t just a clump of wood or rock in his net and he ran to it, heart leaping into his throat.

“Oh sweet stars…” He breathed, untangling the net and shaking his head...a little boy...he couldn’t be but 5 or 6. His hand flew to the keys at his belt and a moment later a shower of gold heralded the arrival of a lithe handsome man in snug black pants and a black leather vest with fiery red hair and brilliant orange eyes.

“Master Gregan...how may I serve?” The man bowed but stopped midway, eyes flying wide at what his master knelt by and the spirit hurried forward, magic flaring.

“P...please Phoenix.. He’s not..?” Gregan breathed, tears falling down his face, where had the child come from, he was bruised, battered, bleeding and as the spirit worked he shook his head, long red hair flowing around his broad shoulders.

“He’s alive Master...barely. I’m stabilizing him but he needs healing beyond my abilities, you’ll need the Dean” Phoenix said.

An hour later Gregan was carrying the child into his modest home, the Dean of the Academe close behind him, two spirits, Phoenix and a graceful woman with flowing blue robes.

“He will be fine Dean Kalperden, just needs rest.” The woman said and the Dean nodded to her. Thank you Cygnus, you may go.” The Dean replied and the woman vanished.

Andria, Gregans wife chewed her lip, heart in her eyes and it was just broken over the little boy.

“I’ll look into where he came from. I’d recommend sending your dogs Gregan, Canis Venatici could likely find his origin faster than anyone else could.” The Dean said. He smiled faintly looking between the couple, he had known them since before they were married, they had met in the school...fallen in love and settled here, he knew they had not been able to have children, knew also how badly they had always wanted a child. Orphans did not often wash up in nets, but they were common on the Grass Sea with the way the nomadic clans were prone to fighting.

The boy bore the clan symbols of one the Dean knew was very religious and very very prone to wars with other clans they saw as unworthy of life upon the Grass Sea. Clan Aerelis was large, strong, but unpopular, were it not for their size they long ago would have been wiped out for their judgemental ways. None in Bosco took well to anyone trying to force their views on them and the Aerelis were known for that.

They were also known for selling weak or small children to slavers, crushing lesser clans and taking slaves even though the government of Bosco had warned them, repeatedly to stop. The Knight of Immaculate light and mages of White Sea were sent at least once a year to deal with that clan, and their sacred animal was Rainbow Swan...the colorful bird was revered and very rare anymore, hunted for its gorgeous plumage. The boy bore the clan symbols of Aerelis, a swan taking up most of his right side.

Perhaps there had been a war, it was hard to say, but he knew children lost by Aerelis, that left their sacred lands were rarely allowed back.

“Gregan, Andria, I’m going to ask you to keep the boy, look after him until we can find his parents or at least find out where he came from.” The Dean said.

Andria spoke before Gregan “We’ll adopt him...I...I mean if his parents can not be found Dean Kalperden..we...we would happily keep him..” She said blushing a bit at the Deans raised brows. Her husband smiled warmly at her, and nodded to the Dean who only smiled.

The boy couldn’t remember much, or at least he claimed not to, he was shy at first with Gregan and Andria. It was a few days after he woke up that Gregan returned from searching with a few mages from the school and his dog spirits and he shook his head at his wife.

They spoke after the boy was asleep that night, and the Dean had friends draw up papers, slid the child into the books as born to Gregan and Andria. They named him Presca. He took to the name immediately, and was, when he started attending school, Presca Gregan Dulcat.

His chocolate colored hair and steel colored eyes along with his fine looks made him popular in school, he tried to hide his magic talents at first, trying to stick to manual work with his father cleaning and caring for the school grounds, but the Dean made him enroll in lessons, personally oversaw the boy learning to manage his magic.

“He’s exceptionally powerful...Gregan, when the military gets wind of him…” The dean sighed, he would do all he could to shield his friends precious son. Presca was kind, quiet, inducted when he was 12 and fell in love when he was 15 with a beautiful girl from the school who was two years older than him. By 16 he’d promised with her, by 17 Gregan finally relented and the girls parents did two and the young couple married when Gwen was 6 months pregnant.

The little girl she gave birth to was the light of the family, Gregan and Andria thrilled at being grandparents, and Presca worked hard, still trying to stick with manual labor instead of working with his magic but when his daughter was barely 3 months old, the Boscan military finally came.

He was forced to leave his young wife, child and parents and go to Pelerno, he like all Boscans had to be evaluated by the military, and if chosen, would have to serve up to 5 years in the reserves.

That was what happened with most young Boscans anyway, but for Presca...with his powerful magic…

“He’s an Energy mage Mr. Dulcat, they’re rare and very very useful, I understand he’s young with a young wife and child but I myself have a wife and children and I serve, everyone serves if they have magic. You know that, dodging ones obligations to the country...well sir...it’s not honorable, he’ll be able to come home for visits.” Gregan was assured when he travelled to the capital with the Dean himself trying to bring his son home.

His little wife Gwen had cried for hours but had finally gotten herself under control when the baby cried.

Presca went through his training...it wasn’t a happy time at all for him. His magic was deadly, and he lacked social skills in groups because he’d grown up in a quiet little school town where most of his schooling was done in small groups or privately. He’d not had many friends, had fallen in love with Gwen and focused all he was on her so early in his life and he worried endlessly about her and his daughter. 

That was when Grandace noticed him, and the Councilman admired the handsome young mage, his magic was unique, rare, which made him a prime candidate for the Bloodhunters League.

When the placement was offered to him though Presca refused it, stating once his training was done he’d take his position in the reserves as he was supposed to but he wanted to go home, to his wife and daughter. Grendace wasn’t amused.

“Find his wife.” He growled to the two men in black waiting for him when he emerged from his meeting with the young mage.

Presca was training, they put no less than 5 other trainees against him now because he was fast and his magic worked so damn well in crowd control situations. One on one he would simply bring his opponent to their knees too weak to stand and knock them over.

When the Sergeant called him into the meeting room he wasn’t happy to see Grendace from the Steel Council again.

“I said no sir, I am sorry you don’t like that answer but I have no interest in all you’ve offered me, I have a happy life back in Cellis and I want to get back to it.Really, that’s all that matters to me. I don’t need ridiculous amounts of money or fine fancy things.” He said.

Grendace smiled at him, and the young mage almost recoiled at the darkness behind that smile. He lifted a small screen and tapped it and suddenly Presca was greeted by the image of his beautiful young wife in chains crying. 

“Say it bitch.” Someone off screen said and Gwen cried out as a fist grabbed her tousled chestnut hair and wrenched her head back so she was looking at the camera.

“Presca...Presca please...do whatever they say or...or they’ll...kill me...They have the baby…” She sobbed.

Presca gripped the armrests of the chair shaking his head faintly eyes wide in shock.

“You hurt me, she’s dead, you tell anyone about this, she’s dead...you cooperate, accept the commision with the Bloodhunters League and do well? She gets water if you’re obedient, food based on your performance, defy me she’s beaten and you get to watch, anger me and I’ll have her raped while you watch. Do we fully understand each other?” Grendace demanded and Presca narrowed his eyes, fury overtaking him, his magic rising.

Grendace did something and Gwen screamed as she was struck with something Prescas eyes flew wide. “NO! No...don’t...I’ll...I’ll do whatever you want…” He hissed.

Grendace smirked “I’m sure you will…”

0-0-0-0-0-0

He had done mostly what Grendace wanted, his own morals, his own limits though came into play and every time he balked...Gwen paid the price, she looked thin, haggard, sickly after a few months and Grendace glared at him.

“I ordered the mistress of the Baron eliminated.” He hissed and Presca winced, almost afraid to look at the screen that was set on the desk.

“Look at your wife, she barely gets enough water and food to stay alive because of you…” Grendace snarled and Presca glared at him, hate flooding his system and almost choking him. 

“She’s pregnant! The Baron Fuchard of Sin, his mistress is pregnant sir!” He protested and tears stung his eyes as he heard Gwen cry out, the dull slap of something hitting her making him writhe in his chair.

“That’s why I want her fucking DEAD!! Now go back to Sin, kill that damn bitch before she and the bastard fuck up the marriage we worked so damned hard to arrange for that man!!” Grendace snarled and Presca was on his feet.

“Please...yes...if you feed her...give her water...for Gods sake let her bathe…” He whispered, looking at his wife in absolute misery.

“You kill that bitch and I’ll give your wife water and food, bathing is reserved for when you PLEASE me you damned idiot.” Grendace snarled and Presca turned away, knowing better than to risk looking at the man with how angry he was, his magic could falter, it had happened before...Gwen was going to be without her ring finger for the rest of her life because Presca, in a fit of rage had lost control of his magic and struck Grendace unconscious. They had made him watch while they had done it...Gwens suffering, her screams...haunted him.

Gwen, his Loreli….was in misery because of him, their daughter...he’d only gotten to see her once in months and she hadn’t looked good…

He had rushed to Sin, barely been able to take care with setting up getting access to the Barons mistress, and when he had, from the second floor of the Inn she met the Barron in, after the Barron left he had drained every drop of life energy from the woman, channeling it into the people in the tavern down stairs until he could detect nothing, no trace the woman had ever breathed...and the tiny innocent life within her...he had snuffed that out as well...then he had thrown up...cleaned himself up and reported back to Grendace...watching Gwen being given water and some thin soup to eat, seeing her hands shaking while she devoured what they had given her...part of him had died because of what he had done.

The only way he could cope then was knowing Gwen was alive, Grendace though had a close watch on his precious hunters, and forced Presca to work with a light hearted almost cheerful man Vander Pradesh. He hated him, hated that he smiled, that he made jokes while they did their work...hated that he took none of it seriously.

He didn’t have to work with the man much at first, which was a good thing, but the bad part was when Presca...in an effort to free his wife and child, had found where he thought Grendace was keeping them and broke in...it was a trap...a terrible trap...and Presca had been tied to a chair, Magic cancelling cuffs holding him to it...as he’d watched two men...rape his wife.

Grendace had then tossed him out into the street and Presca had been so torn apart, so utterly hopeless he’d thought...maybe if he was dead, Grendace would give it up and release his wife and child…

Unfortunately...Grendace was watching him...and he failed to kill himself...succeeded only in landing in the hospital...Vander assigned to keep an eye on him, the Shadowquip oddly silent and reserved.

“What does he have...of yours...he threatens my family...right now my little sister is at University, and he sends me pictures of her chatting with Seth...you know Seth...he killed Orins brother when Orin didn’t get that marquis dead on time….he has someone...that’s why you did this…” Vander said quietly. He held up a handful of listening devices...all disabled, waving his other hand so shadows whirled around the cameras in the room.

“He can not see or hear us...tell me.” Vander insisted. Presca drew a shaky breath.

“My wife and daughter…” He said finally. Vanders eyes widened then narrowed, the faint glow in the deep red depths prompting Presca to look away, he knew Vanders magic, had worked with the Shadowquip enough...when his eyes glowed you didn’t look into them unless you wanted something dark and deadly invading your body.

“Fuck...you know who my Dad is right?” He demanded and Presca nodded, of course he knew, Arman Pradesh was the head of the Boscan consulate, lead Ambassador, responsible for most of the treaties and trade agreements that had seen Bosco flourish in the last 20 some years.

“This won’t last Presca...hang in there man...don’t off yourself ok? I’ll never find them if you do, nobody ever will, he’ll make them disappear…” He jerked his head toward the door and with a wave of his hand the listening devices flew back to their hiding places and the shadows left the cameras.

Vander put a knee up on the bed beside Presca, grabbing his thigh through the hospital blanket “I could really help you if you let me...if you change your mind…” He said in a sultry suggestive tone just as the door flew open and Seth strode in, the older Bloodhunter glaring.

“Vander...what the fuck are you doing?” He snarled.

Vander smirked “Hey, he’s sexy ok? I thought maybe if he was feeling down I’d offer to give him a little release ya know? Nothing like a good fuck to ease what ails you.” He purred. Seth smirked, eyes turning predatory and raking over the leather clad mage.

“He’s recovering...too weak right now...me though? It’s been a long day…” He grabbed the “privacy” curtain and pulled it as he grabbed Vanders wrist and yanked the man against him, smirking down at Vander and kissing him hard before shoving him to the other side of the curtain.

A few minutes later Presca was cringing hearing Seth taking his “relaxation” out of Vanders body, as strong as the Shadowquip was...as well as Presca knew he handled things, he still heard the other man cry out a few times as the big Bloodhunter took his pleasures.

When he finally saw Seth emerge, buttoning his pants and giving him a nasty smirk before he narrowed his eyes “He won’t be propositioning you again tonight...pretty sure I worked the desire for sex out of him.” He sneered then left.

“Lies...he so didn’t. He just made me want GOOD sex...which that really wasn’t…” Vander rasped from the other side of the curtain.

Presca had frowned at the light tone...he’d heard what had happened, he was shocked Vander was even conscious.

“You want me to call the nurse?” He asked quietly.

“Why is she pretty? I mean, I may need a few minutes but if she’s pretty…” Vander replied and Presca had rolled his eyes, the man never stopped…

It was two days later Presca was given a new assignment on his way out of the hospital, and he’d completed it, though it had taken him time, he’d been slower than normal since he was still a little weak.

He frowned, his look no less horrified when he saw his one year old on the screen instead of his wife.

“Where is Gwen…” He whispered.

“Gwen? You wanted someone dead..tried to kill yourself...so...since you wanted a death...I made one happen, now...your daughter will be who you work to feed. Same rules as your wife…”

Presca had been so overwhelmed but it hadn’t mattered, his daughter had become sick, they weren’t caring for her well and she wasn’t strong enough...she died a couple of months later and Presca, eyes almost blinded by his tears was looking at his elderly parents in chains the next time Grendace showed him what he was working to keep…

They didn’t last a month…

He was cold hearted by then, detatched and jaded he believed beyond repair when suddenly he was working with Vander again...not long after their 5th mission together...Arman and Farron Pradesh with the help of Kaleb the recently appointed guildmaster of White Sea, brought down Grendace and the corrupted Steel Council, more than that, Vanders family helped recover Prescas last living family….a cousin he hadn’t even known he’d had until Grendace had found him. Dun was crippled by his time in Grendaces clutches.

Free though, Presca found himself offered a place in White Sea, Vander asking him to become his partner...and he’d taken the offer, determined to see his cousin into school and the best care possible so he could have a good life.

It had all led to where he was today...leaning against the doorframe of Vanders front door to his penthouse, gritting his teeth against the waves of lust rolling over him. Vanders older brother Cristoff was a Lunar Dragon Slayer and Presca had just brought him to Vanders penthouse, where Vander and Bickslow were setting things up to keep the man safe and away from society until the full moon passed.

A hand slid over his chest and he opened his eyes, meeting Emzadis fiery orange gaze and barely managing to refrain from jumping at her...holy hell Vander had NOT been kidding about the effects of Cristoffs magic…

“Presca...if I didn’t know you better I’d think you were getting turned on…” Emzadi purred, hand starting to slide down his body, he grabbed her wrist and pushed her hand from him before she reached his groin. Thank the Gods for tight leather pants because that was all that was keeping his arousal from showing, that and his thigh length brown tunic and coat.

“No is still no oh sister of my best friend.” He said in a much cooler tone than he’d thought he could manage. Gods he wanted to throw her against the wall and ravish her, he knew she was more than willing, she flirted him up and asked him to share pleasure on a semi regular basis just like her damn sister Xally.

Her pout almost made him whimper. “I’ll get into those tight pants one day Presca...mark my words..” She smiled before leaning in and he turned so her red lips connected with his cheek instead of his mouth.

She growled but left him.

“Give it up Emi, Presca is determined to have fully blue genitals for the rest of time.” Vander called.

“I’d love nothing more than to warm them right up.” Emzadi purred as she accepted a tumbler from Vander who smirked at Presca.

“See? My own sister is willing to give you a good time buddy, you haven’t lived till you’ve fucked a Dragon Slayer...I’ve heard...fucking sucks I’m related to both the Dragon Slayers I know.” He sighed.

“Well there’s Laxus but he likes women and if you get near Wendy I’ll personally help Kaleb remove all of your bad boy ideas and make you desire a life in the priesthood of Midi.” Bickslow said lightly.

“What about Pinky?” Vander asked, now ignoring Presca.

“Natsu? Shit the world couldn’t handle you two hooking up, fuck that!” Bickslow laughed.

“I need to go out…” Cristoff was suddenly walking toward the door and Bickslow and Vander both lunged, each grabbing a thickly muscled arm and pulling him back as Presca braced himself to prevent the slayer from leaving.

“Nope, not happening, come on Cris, come on over to the terrace...Presca? You have lobby duty!” Vander called and Presca rolled his eyes, gratefully turning away and heading for the elevator, he would be picking and choosing people to allow up to the penthouse. He smiled faintly when he came into the lobby filled with somewhat confused dazed looking people.

He smiled at a heavily muscled woman...Attlan by the looks of her...had more muscle than Cristoff possibly...he let her through, along with anyone he found who looked like they might struggle to get requests for pleasure approved often. If Vander was going to make him do this...he was sending folks Van usually wouldn’t consider….


	3. Beautiful Eyes (Kaleb Pradesh)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day Arman found his first adopted son

Beautiful Eyes

 

“Make certain every entrance, exit, including the damn escapes are covered, we aren't taking a step until they are.” Arman snapped. The woman a few feet from him, and his own son both looked at the tall man. Farron was only 6 but he easily recognized when his father was angry, it was uncommon for him. His little hand tightened in his fathers and Arman sighed, giving his son a reassuring look. He hated having him here, Farron had insisted though, wouldn’t even let Arman get dressed until he’d promised to bring him.

“I want to see, maybe I can help Dad.” Already, at 6, Farron had matured beyond “daddy”, Arman missed it, his son was already reading at a high school level, learning alchemy and mathematics he shouldn’t have started until his teens at the earliest.

Arman didn’t believe in holding him back though, he let Farron set his own pace. He just needed more social time, to be around other children more, and Arman had resolved to make that happen.

His research into adoption had resulted in a friend mentioning the slave markets of Joya, that he should save a child from slavery. That had sparked his endless need to see justice, fairness...decency for everyone and had set the wheels in motion for this moment.

The underground slave trafficing market on the border of Bosco was being shut down today. Every slave within would be freed if Arman had his way, and...he would be seeking a child...Ganier, his wife...she had wanted a big family.

“I want 8” She had said as they had laid in bed, he’d been beside her, wrapped around her, his hand rubbing soft circles over her swollen belly. His eyes had flown wide. “Eight?! Good Gods Ganier...I was thinking 4.” He chuckled and she had pulled him down for a long kiss that had him growling and his hand sliding lower on his wifes body. They’d barely caught their breath from the last round, that she had started, she was insatiable lately, not that Arman minded at all.

“Wicked...wonderful man...save that, we’ll need it because I’m serious, I want 8, I only have a brother and you were an only child, you know how lonely that is, I want a huge family, I want our children to have each other as well as us, I want this house full.” She had said and he had smiled, anything, she could have asked for anything and he’d give it to her.

It was staggering how much he loved her, she was his sunshine, his happiness, the light of his life.

Her death had almost killed him. Had it not been for Farron, he might have indeed died, he’d have wanted to. Farron though needed him, and while he had lost Ganier and Zen both, he owed his son the life his mother had dreamed of for him. So, he had kept the large estate, the one Ganier had loved, that his father had left to him. His mother had died when he was 8, his father when he was 17 and he’d lived to for his work until Ganier had come into his life. The beautiful grad student was enamored by him, he was famous as the youngest Ambassador Bosco had ever had and Ganier was working on her degree in Political sciences. Arman had easily swept her off her feet, been in love with her almost from the moment he met her. She was so beautiful, inside and out, with her curling long mahogany hair all streaked through with gold because she loved being outdoors and her eyes the color of the sky.

He’d asked to marry her right before she had told him she was pregnant, so in love with him shed had wanted his child and whether or not he wanted her as a wife she would keep a part of him, women in Bosco had that freedom and if men didn’t want to sire children it was up to them to take the simple slip of a wafer that would assure that before they had sex.

But Arman had been in love with her by then, so deep and far gone he’d torn his family home apart seeking his mothers engagement ring for her. She’d been so happy, their wedding had been small, private, Altiene the King of Bosco himself had presided over it, seen them through their vows. 

Now he strode into the market with their son, Ganier, help me find a soul who needs Farron and I as much as we need them….he prayed. Boscans believed in the light, that people never really faded from existence, their spirits lived forever, souls were immortal energy and the universe never wasted energy. They prayed to their lost loves, their ancestors as much as the Gods.

He went straight to the transport they had intercepted, Boscan soldiers bowing to him as he passed, Minda Fashen trailing after him, the beautiful woman was a general in the knights, she watched Arman closely, giving Farron small smiles as the boys wide blue eyes took in the horrors of a slave market. Soldiers and healers were helping people, breaking cages open, removing chains. Mages of White Sea had swarmed in with the military and their best healers were all here.

Grenlow was close at Armans side, determined to keep the Ambassador that was such a good friend safe, he’d insisted on being here for this raid, so Grenlow himself, Guildmaster of White Sea, would assure he stayed safe as he walked with his son through the place. Arman wanted Farron to see all of the world, to understand why his work for peace and equality was so important, and while Grenlow could say little, his own son was here, 15 and recently made a full mage of White Sea, he wasn’t sure he’d have brought him when he was 6.

They walked onto the ship and Farron stopped, yanking Armans hand and pulling him to a steel box with small holes. “I hear you...oh Daddy...please get him out he’s scared…” He’d said, touching the box and Armans eyes had widened, Grenlow had stepped forward and light had surged from his fingertips, cutting through the steel as soft whimpers came from it.

Farron threw the chunk aside yanking his hand from his father and hurrying forward, Arman dropped to his knees so he could see as his son reached inside. Huddled in the back of the box was a boy. Naked and bloodied in a way that made it clear he had already seen the worst of abuse. Armans heart wrenched in his chest as he watched his son coax the boy.

“It’s ok, I’m Farron, I’m 6 years old...this is my Daddy and our friends Grenlow and Miss Minda, we came here to help..do you have a daddy?” He asked the little boy cried more “de...dead...killed…” He whimpered “Momma too..”

Arman pulled the manifest from the box and his eyes darkened in fury. This tiny boy had already been sold as a pleasure slave, given a rank of 10 for beauty a noble in Joya had bought him, he had the symbol on his manifest that indicated a royal buyer.

Though he was filthy now, when he emerged from the box to Farron his dark purple eyes, his flawless face, thick already shoulder length deep brown hair, he was indeed beautiful, stunning already, the manifest said he was 5, described him as assured to grow into a handsome man, his father listed as having been over 6 feet tall and handsome. The selling points were all there.

He removed his cloak and held it out, the little boys eyes on his now. “My Daddy…” Farron was saying “Daddy...you’ll be his Daddy now won’t you? You said we were going to find a sibling for me today...I want him...he needs us.” Farron said firmly.

“I...they hurt me…” The boy whimpered. Arman held his arms out “Oh sweet child, nobody will ever hurt you again...I swear it…” He whispered and Farron had stepped to his father, pulling the boy with him into Armans embrace, he’d held both boys against him, wrapped the cloak around the boy.  
Standing he nodded toward the manifest and Minda took it “I’ll arrange everything Arman…” She said softly. He kissed Farrons temple and smiled at the wide purple eyes of the boy. 

“What’s your name?” Farron asked smiling reassuringly at the boy who was wiping tear tracks from his dirty face and staring at Arman. 

“I miss my momma…” He whimpered.

“I miss mine too, she died...bad people killed her and my little brother.” Farron told him and the boy looked at him then Arman again.

“He’s a good Daddy, and I’ll be a good big brother...we have a nice house by the sea, and Daddy bought ponies, do you like ponies?” Farron asked. The boy nodded, smiling faintly. “I’ll teach you to ride them then.” Arman whispered, unable to find his voice, transfixed by the beautiful little boy and feeling all through him this was his son, this was right.

“Ok...I don’t want to be here anymore…” He said and Arman turned, Grenlow and Minda flanked him as her carried the two boys away. Tiny fingers undid the tie in his hair, sifted through his black locks quietly, when Minda had taken Farron the boy refused to leave Armans arms so he held him still wrapped in his cloak as he helped guide the operations of dismantling the market and seeing its victims to the transport ships ready to carry them to freedom.

“My Daddys hair was brown..Mommas was red...will you...will you really be my Daddy now?” He asked, Arman met sad purple eyes and smiled gently.

“If you’ll let me I would like to be.” He replied softly.

“I’d like to have Farron for a brother…” The boy said.

“He’ll be a good big brother.” Arman assured him. “Our family has been sad...Farrons momma, my wife and his brother...they died and we miss them...but if you came to us...if you were my son and Farrons brother...we would be happier and we could make you happy, be your family now since you lost yours.” Arman said.

The boy nodded, tears sliding down his face again but he hugged Arman, sniffling in his hair. 

“Please be my family…” He begged “I don’t want to be alone.”.

Arman tightened his arms around the boy, held him and choked on his own tears “We are your family then, I’m your Daddy now and I always will be...what’s your name my son?” He whispered hoarsely.

“Kaleb...:” The boy replied.


	4. Dark Eagle (Zen Pradesh)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Zen Ralkier Pradesh

Dark Eagle

 

Skys Reach Stadium it was called, the grandest in Pergrande. The kings own nephew had built it to offer the finest spectacles the kingdom had ever seen and so it always had. King Karadin Ausmerien sat in the grand veranda overlooking the , sipping at his mead, narrowed eyes on the throngs of people gathered. 

The thirst for blood ran deep here and after 99 victories in the arena, the finest Gladiator Pergrande had ever seen was about to come out for the final spectacle of the of the day. Karadin sneered into his cup, he hated this young man, hated his father, hated his country and everything it all stood for. As he watched the man enter the holding area where he would wait for the ring to be prepared Karadins eyes narrowed,the magic glasses on his face bringing the visage of the man below into focus and clear detail.

More than anything...King Karadin hated how badly he wanted this creature. Wanted to run his fingers over that tan oiled skin, feel those rigid muscles, enjoy those muscles bunching and shuddering under his touch.

Pergrande was a patriarchal society in an extreme way, women had no value beyond their ability to bear children. Pleasure, that was all male, a real man did not want for a female, he wanted for the raw masculine power of the male body, sought to make his own strong and to find pleasure in as much or more strength. 

Gladiators were the ultimate. Deadly, feral, champions that won many battles could earn their owners millions for a single hour. The Dark Eagle, 6’ 4” of tanned muscular Boscan was such a champion, 99 wins in a row in the arena, Almost 2 years of victories, and...almost 2 years since the last time anyone had gotten close to enjoying that incredible body of his. 

Chained, magic canceling and draining manacles on his ankles wrists and throat enough to kill a normal mage in minutes, beaten until he was bleeding and exhausted after a full day of fighting, he was heavily bound bent over an iron bar limbs spread, feet not even touching the ground. Drugged as heavily as they dared, and when the senator who had paid over 300 million jewel for this had started running his hands over the Dark Eagles body the gladiator had tensed, the chains had groaned, but held.

Confident, the senator had enjoyed himself, kissing over the oiled beautiful body, groaning as his hand had gone between the spread legs and gripped the thick cock of the most brutal and deadly warrior Pergrande had in its pits. 

But when the Senator had started gripping that perfect hard sculpted ass, had started to press against the Gladiators back, those fucking wings had shot out and cut the man in half, severed every chain and the Dark Eagle had kicked the Senators head toward his owner with a snarl, spinning on his heel and leaving to stand and wait for his cells door to open.

The Dark Eagle defied his owner, defied his trainers, took beatings without making a sound, the wounds always healed no matter how bad they got by the next day. Breeding him didn’t work, he didn’t pass on the wings, and they didn’t even know if his unique magic was hereditary, researching it had proven impossible so far, they’d had the Dark Eagle since he was a year old and in all that time all they knew was he was an Archangel mage, the wing tattoo across his shoulders lit faintly an instant before the wings emerged, and the damn things could be sharper than the sharpest sword, the feathers harder than steel if the man wanted them that way, or soft as down.

The damn things were resistant to every form of restraint they had devised so far and kept even the King himself from bedding that gorgeous creature. He had fucked every Gladiator that had made 50 victories undefeated, the Dark Eagle was at 99, stood to clear 100 today and King Karadin meant to have him if he did. 

Pradesh’s son would know his touch, would feel the passion of a true man of power, the greatest King of all time would brand himself into the Dark Eagles memory and take for himself what others feared to even attempt anymore.

Zen Pradesh would turn 20 today, and King Karadin would have him, if he won his prize would be the King of Pergrande, whether he wanted it or not. Karadin was done lusting after Pradesh’s damn son, he would cleanse this lust by having him at last even if the process killed the Gladiator.

The three Berserkers hadn’t come cheap, todays fight would be grand. The Dark Eagle had only ever fought two at once, and never a veteran. Today he would fight three veteran Berserkers, top fighters for the military. If he lived...his victory would be a glorious one.

He’d never regretted taking the child from those ruins, lying to Bosco about it so Pradesh went home thinking he’d lost both his wife and his son. Karadin had no mercy, the wife was worthless and yet Pradesh had treasured her, wanted her to attend meetings, be in the presence of men with her head high and clothes on as if she were an equal and not just a breeding toy. 

Women and their grotesque bodies, so soft with wide hips and those fleshy breasts for producing milk. Their only purpose was to produce babies yet Pradesh adored his wife, treated her as an equal, Bosco treated all women like they were equals, the inheritance of the throne of the country was even equal, the first born, male or female took the throne. It was insane. Women were allowed to make money, own property, men in other countries fucked them for pleasure...it sickened Karadin to even think about it.

He’d never meant to give Boscos efforts at diplomacy much thought, but seeing Pradesh loving on that damn bitch of his had disgusted every decent Pergrandian who saw it happen so they had destroyed the embassy, lucky enough to kill off Pradesh’s wife in the process, that his son had survived, sat in the smoldering wreckage with long black wings wrapped around him, that had clearly protected him from the blast? There was no hesitation in taking the child for the labs to research and convert into a berserker.

The attempts though had all failed. Pradeshs offspring started killing scientists when they got too rough and he’d been sent to the pits. Back then, when he was still a child, he’d been fucked plenty, but he got strong, trained relentlessly, started winning fights, then started getting tossed into the arena, and won those fights. He grew, and now...now he was a walking fantasy for Pergrandians ruling class of men.

He loved what they had him in today, the mesh thong, the plate belt with the braided leather tassels that allowed his thick cock to show through, left his muscled flanks, thighs and ass on display. The knee high sandals in place to hold the ankle manacles, the handless gauntletts to hold the wrist manacles, a single pauldron held in place by leather straps that stretched teasingly over the mans generous hard muscled pectorals. 

His Tattoos, glistening under oil followed the cut of his body perfectly down his right side and the ruby earing in his right ear that had belonged to his damn mother, Karadn had had the trainer who had given the man that beaten severely for doing it because now they couldn’t get the fucking thing back.

For a time they had taunted the Eagle, called him a Boscan Heathen unable to enjoy real pleasure because his kind rutted with women for it. Boscans honestly didn’t have a preference making them both better and worse than most other cultures as far as Pergrandians were concerned.

The first time they had, to tease the Dark Eagle, sent in a pretty sexy male courtesan, Karadins own in fact, the King himself had been there to see how quickly the Eagle killed the man, he was punishing him for being disobedient and willful. If he died he died, Karadin was just interested in seeing it happen. Watching the Eagle react to having a male slave instead of a female one given to him for pleasure after a win.

The slave had been frightened but had still, unable to resist, approached the Dark Eagle, touched him, and the gladiators owner, the King, two senators, had all watched in utter wonder as the Eagle had proven them wrong. He’d accepted the slaves advances, grabbed the smaller man and kissed him, ravished his mouth in a lusty display and then, even the King had sat uncomfortably shifting, unable to tear his eyes away, almost drooling as they watched the Dark Eagle fuck that slave. Pound into him with his purple eyes defiantly glaring at them only to turn soft on his lover. All night that night he’d been all over that slave, even gotten the smaller man off several times before he’d pointedly laid back and let the slave slide between his legs and take him. No wings came out to cut the smaller man to bits, though they had all watched the Dark Eagle tear men limb from limb with his bare hands.

Karadin had watched a slave take what every high born in Pergrand would have paid millions for, what he himself would have given anything for, watched that deeply tanned body writhe beneath the slave, thickly muscled arms gripping the bars over his head as his back arched, sexy moans and growls coming from the big man while the slave took his body and he let him. What he would have cut a noble to pieces for, he let a slave have without hesitation.

Had it not been so enthralling to watch, them would have stopped it, dragged the slave out and killed him right in front of the Eagle, not that the gladiator would have cared, but just out of spite. As it was, Karadin had taken that slave home, refusing to have him washed before hand and had fucked him unconscious, the particular scent of the Dark Eagle all over the man driving the King wild.

He’d been reduced to that then, and for a time it had almost been enough, he’d send his finest most beautiful slaves to the Dark Eagle and when the gladiator was done with them, the King would have them. It was humiliating, but the closest he could get to having what he wanted.

No more. The chains today had been forged just for this, the strongest ever made, metal make mages had crafted the restraints to be used and the drugs were out of the Grand Queen Succubus who had finally been hunted down by Pergrandian bounty hunters and brought in. Her venom would flow in the Dark Eagle if he survived his battle. He would not let a damn Boscan elude him.

Finally the arena was cleared and the berserkers were released as The Dark Eagles own gate opened. Fans of the Gladiator knew he would watch them, stalk them, as he did every opponent, seeking strategic openings, the Dark Eagle was never rushed, was never careless, every move he made once he set foot in the arena was calculated and measured before it happened.

He was, as always, fearless. The berserkers were hideous genetic abominations, over muscled, one covered in grayish scales even. They had once been both human and animals, now they were merged to make them better fighters. Glowing control collars around their necks assured they would not try to leave the arena and attack the spectators, that they would focus their fury on the Gladiator not each other as sometimes happened.

The first Berserker to rush the Dark Eagle paid for it with it’s life, the Gladiator was well ready and the move was suicidal at best, but as the longsword in the Eagles hand cleaved the first one the other two rushed to the opening. He had only one sword and no shield today.

The Eagle had known when the attendants had slid the ridiculous fine chain thong onto him, the hammered gold plate belt with the chain and leather braided straps hanging down, only six in the front so decidedly not actual protection for the fronts of his thighs, more a damn tease because they parted and just framed his chain link covered cock and balls. His gear today was not meant to protect him, it was meant to display his body to the drooling audience...again. The flimsy pauldron on his left shoulder was about useless too, all he had that could be used were the manacles themselves, something he’d not done before but didn’t doubt at all he could when needed. Usually they didn’t give him a helm, the fucking King liked his face. His long sun streaked hair was braided and hung down his back so at least that was out of his way.

Twisting he slammed the manacle on his left wrist into the Berserkers mouth, gratified seeing teeth fracture and fly in shards away, he kicked the corpse of the one his sword was still moving through at the second Berseker, ignoring the claws of the first as they tore across his shoulders, higher than they should have and he almost smiled.

Often his opponents went for the wing marks on his shoulders, why anyone still thought damaging them would slow his wings he wasn’t sure, he’d proven repeatedly it didn’t. The four manacles and the band around his neck were all drains and cancels for magic, it didn’t matter though, he still felt his magic, could still tap it.

Blood ran down his back from what the Berserkers claws had done and before the second beast could untangle itself from the corpse of the one who had charged him, the Eagle rammed his sword right through the forehead of the one trying to pry the wrist manacle from it’s overstretched jaws.

The motion surprisingly made the beasts jaws clamp down to the point he heard bone cracking with the force and then almost laughed when he saw the manacle fracture before the beast slumped dead, dragging the crushed manacle from him as it fell.

Magic surged through him then and the crowd gasped and screamed it’s enthusiasm. Everyone knew the Dark Eagle was a powerful mage and those manacles kept his magic in check. Seeing one broken off of him for the first time had the whole crowd entranced wondering what it would bring to the fight.

The last Berserker circled, a blind charge on the gladiator had resulted in the death of one, underestimating the mans strength had killed the second, this one would not be so foolish.

The Eagles eyes narrowed, the ridiculous plume on his helmet fluttered across his chest, some of it tainted red with his own blood that was running freely from the wounds across his shoulders. They were already closing though, the surge of magic at the breaking of the manacle had his healing powers flaring easily, pumping through his veins with strength, vigor and adrenaline. He ripped it off and cast it past the Berserker, smirking when it didn’t glance that way but it’s nose twitched, the scent of the Eagles blood passing close making its eyes flash.

It had been blooded, that explained the rampage and semi stupidity of the first two, but even blooded this one was thinking. Its’ eyes moving over him, a horrid smirk lifting gray lips and revealing sharp fangs as it’s eyes lingered on his groin.

Lovely, beyond blooded, this one had been sexed...possibly all three had been. Berserks could be set upon genders, for invasions they were usually ritualistically set up to rape and destroy women because that usually horrified and enraged the men, but for here, these had been ritualized onto rape males, blooded so they were in full lust mode when they came into this ring.

Another reason he was dressed like he was...to entice the lust of the berserkers more. His purple eyes flared gold as the Berserker started toward him, edging closer as it circled. As it finally lunged his wings snapped out, long black and glinting in the lights his left swung in to cut the Berserker down but, to the Eagles horror, the Berserk caught it, clamping a gauntleted hand down on the edge of the wing, the wing cut through the gauntlet, should have cut the hand in half, but those gray scales on the thing didn’t allow that, the wing was stopped, caught and the beast twisted it.

The Eagle gasped in pain, thrown to the ground as the Berserked lunged in from behind him, stepping between his wings and reaching with his spare hand to grab the Gladiators hip, sinking claws into his flesh as he yanked the big man back against him.

Again the reason for his damn attire became obvious, the thong provided no protection for his ass and the berserkers oversized cock was suddenly pressing against him. 

No...no he had been through this, he’d been raped before crowds before, it had been years ago but it had happened and he’d sworn he’d die before it happened again. The Berserker had his hands full, if her released the wing he couldn’t keep the Gladiators other from reaching him because he would loose control of those shoulders, right now he had the right wing wrenched back so the left was pressed into the dirt, if he released the Gladiators hip, the man could twist that delicious hard ass away and he was too lusted to want that removed from the contact he’d achieved even though he couldn’t get the angle he needed to penetrate the gladiator like he wanted to.

His hips bucked as the man struggled and caused some friction and he was powerfully tempted to release half his hold but he couldn’t decide which part, just for a moment so he could line himself up right and get his cock into the Gladiator. He started to lunge down, press against the mans back, he’d sink his damn fangs into the mans neck above the collar on him and hold him that way.

In his haste to get his hold adjusted so he could acieve what he wanted, he released Zens hip too soon, before his teeth reached flesh. In an instant the wings vanished and the suddenly he held nothing at all and the Gladiator spun, facing him as they both fell to the ground and the Berserker saw nothing more, his head cleaved from above his control collar by the sudden flash of the sword still in the Gladiators hand.

The crowd went insane, chanting “Dark Eagle! Dark Eagle! Dark Eagle!” The Announcer shouting over the speakers about the Gladiator achieving his 100th victory in the coliseum.  
The Dark Eagle drew in a few deep breaths before jumping to his feet and saluting the crowd with his sword before heading for his gate. He knew something awaited him, 100 victories wouldn’t go by without the nobility trying something with him. He was ready, the wounds on his back were already gone, he wasn’t the least bit tired, magic surged through him and they could put another manacle in place but it would be hours before that would bleed away the extra magic he was enjoying.

He was covered in blood and gore. The damn oils they rubbed all over him before he went into the ring were meant only to make him look good, they collected dirt like crazy and he was always filthy when he came in from the ring. His owner though made sure he was well scrubbed down after every fight, and there was always a crowd at the wash stall to watch him get bathed.

He barely noticed them all anymore, most jerking off and moaning his colliseum name as they watched him get bathed. Disgusting, all of them, he didn’t care, let them do what they did, they repulsed him.

As usual he was brought into the wash rack and he willingly held his hands out, allowing the skinny women that handled the baths of the gladiators to attach chains to his wrists and clamp a mundane cuff to the one lacking its usual manacle. His arms were lifted and spread, for the safety of the bathers the gladiators were restrained during baths but the restraints were easily overpowered, many bathers were killed or raped in the stalls by overexcited Gladiators, it was why valueless women were used for the work.

Zen never hurt them though, they knew he wouldn’t, the pens where the women were kept together, they talked, all of the female slaves of the pits knew the Dark Eagle was the safest of the Gladiators for them to work around, that if they were sent to his cell they would not be harmed, instead if they wanted it, he gave immense pleasure to them, handled them gently, respected it if they were frightened and wanted to be left untouched. He’d even share his bed, let them sleep, shared his food too, which was always so much better than what they were given.

For that many of them adored him, prayed to be sent to him, fought over who would be at the door to be taken for bath duty when he was scheduled to fight.

He met shy eyes as the women moved in and started cleaning him up. Removing the pathetic excuse for armor pieces until he stood naked and then lifting soft cloths to his smooth tanned skin to wash away the filth of the ring. 

Nobles were clustered all around in the elevated walkways above the bathing area and the well secured viewing areas around it. His amethyst eyes saw the King and moved back to acknowledge the woman before him who was washing his front, running a cloth down his chest and smiling faintly, her eyes hopeful. H gave her the faintest nod and it was all she needed, he accepted her, in that tiny acknowledgement said he wouldn’t stop or harm her and she was on her knees in front of him. Normally he didn’t allow it, just wanted to be cleaned off and returned to his cell, but with the King watching he knew the man would be pissed he was letting a woman suck on him, enjoy his body without a struggle or objection from him. It always angered the King when he took slaves, accepted them, let them do things he’d kill a noble for trying.

Disgust filled the Kings eyes and the Eagle internally laughed, keeping his face emotionless though he closed his eyes as the woman gripped his ass and increased the vigor of her sucking and licking. When she pulled back, looking up at him emploringly he nodded again and she smiled, eagerly climbing his body like a tree, wrapping her legs around his waist and holding herself up with an arm around his shoulders while she gripped him, lined herself up and sank onto him. 

He bared his teeth but snapped his hips to drive himself into her and with at least 30 nobles and the King himself watching, the woman rode the Eagle until she gasped out his her blissful end, whimpering in pleasure when he came inside of her, praying he’d make her pregnant because if he did her whole life would improve, a child from him would assure his owner would buy her and keep her well. The possibility alone likely would assure that, she saw his owner already writing down the number on her collar and pressed into him “Thank you” she whispered in his ear before she slid down his body and quickly started cleaning him again, ignoring the dark envious glares from her fellows.

Once clean he was usually given a plain robe to wear and sent to his cell and he hesitated when that gate was not opened but a different one was and the girl in front of him looked pleadingly at him, tugging his hand. He glared toward his owner, but let the girl pull him down a walkway from the open areas of a pits. He narrowed his eyes as guards and trainers flanked them on the elevated walkway above where he walked, this was it, whatever was planned, he drew steady breaths, sharpened his senses readying himself to fight whatever they had planned, to kill all he had to in order to defend himself.

When they came into the room it was obvious what they planned in a moment, one sweep of his eyes told him. A heavy waist high slab of marble chains thicker than Zens legs and faintly glowing with magic, a thick dark metal band attached to a hinge on one side of the marble block. He started to pull back but hissed as the girl spun and drove a syringe into his thigh, some glowing greenish yellow liquid pushed into his body that made his stagger and drop to a knee.

Men rushed forward as the room spun, his magic was flaring, trying to fight whatever the girl he slammed aside to hit the stone wall and fall motionless to the ground had injected him with. He hadn’t been watching her, usually the women were meek, harmless, it figured they would use that to get close enough to do this to him.

He had new Manacles clamped over the old, one golden one clamped to his wrist were he’d lost the old one made him swat and the men shouldered his weight, dragging him to the marble slab. He couldn’t move, his magic was all over the place, battling his own blood as it carried whatever was in him now through his body rendering him almost unable to move at all. Almost, he still lurched and threw a couple of the men off of him, but they got the heavy black metal band over his back, pressing him face down onto the marble slab, his arms were wrenched down, chained to the slab and his legs were spread, pulled back and clamped down, heavy bands clamping into his thighs and calves as well as his ankles.

He snarled, struggling, but whatever was in his blood was making his magic frantic and eratic.

“You have no time Majesty, we don’t know how long he’ll be subdued…” He heard.

“No matter...guards I want your hands on his arms and legs, I’ll play after if he’s still under…” He heard the Kings voice and thrashed, but his movement was uncoordinated, up from down still beyond his grasp. He felt it though, felt when the King ran his hands up his thighs, felt the man reach around his hip and trail eager fingers over his cock.

He snarled “No!” and thrashed wildly but the King laughed, caressing him, a hand running over his ass then he was prodded for only a moment “Lube...yes good…” The king muttered and then Zens whole being screamed as he felt the man drive into his body.

“Oh Gods...oh Gods’’’you’re...you’re fucking perfect…” The King groaned and started pounding into him. Zen snarled, gathering all the magic he possesed, commanding it to do his bidding, to ignore everything and after only a couple of minutes of the king gripping his hips and fucking him, Zens wings exploded out, they were not the razor edged wings he wanted, but they were enough. The King yelped and was grabbed by a guard and thrown back just as Zens wing swept back and the long flight feather rammed through the guards back coming out through his chest, lifting the man from the ground and flinging his dead body aside as guards fought, died, and Zen gathered more magic, all he could command and hardened those wings, cutting through the chains, freeing himself he staggered lose just as the King was safely taken from the room. Roaring he spun, killing every other living thing in the room, eyes blazing gold.

King Karadin staggered to the observation area just in time to see the Dark Eagle kill the last guard, 14 men lay dead in the room, three berserkers worth over a billion jewel a piece, but the King smiled, he hadn’t gotten off in that sculpted hard ass but he’d now had a taste, and he damn sure would have that Golden skinned Boscan. “Shall we kill him sire?” The guard panting at his side asked and the king laughed “NO, Gods no...Let him calm down, bring the girl he fucked to take him back to his cell...no...I won’t kill that glorious beast...now I have to have my fill...and I will...we just need better chains…”


	5. A love of Keys (Hestor Kedanza)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There has been confusion about what Keys the Male Celestial Mage of White Sea holds, here's a little peak, a day in the life if you will, and his keys are listed nicely by a student of his.

Kaleb had just come out of his fathers study, was turning to go into the dining room so he could finally get something to eat. He’d spent the last 3 weeks touring the 7 branches of White Sea, going through reports, mission logs, making decisions about where unwanted items taken in as rewards would go, the tasks were many. He had to do it once a year, his lieutenants were all great people, and ran their assigned branches well, but even a smooth running small branch in the odd little Border city of Daevale that sprawled over the pocket of land where Bosco, Iceburg and Stella shared borders, needed him to come out from time to time.

So he’d just gotten in, gone right to his father to give him some information on some movement noted by Iceburg of Pergrandian “warwagons” that Tesso had already been sent in a missive and all he wanted was hot food, cold drink and to rest for a day or two, maybe visit a bath house…

He could smell Shawarma, and knew there would be honey kanafeh because Mr. Elan knew he was coming home today and had showed him he was making it when he had come in a couple hours ago. Some of his favorites...and he was so hungry, the food on the ship had been marginal, and he’d been craving good rich well made food for more than a week.

Before he got through the sitting area though Hestor was suddenly in front of him, plucking the case he was holding from his hands.

“I’ll take those.” He said lightly, smiling and hurrying to the small desk in the tea room Kaleb still standing blinking.

“You don’t need to do them now.” Kaleb said and Hestor looked up as he opened the case, raising a silver brow.

“Nonsense, I’ve been waiting all day for you to get back, you said there was one that was red? Ahhh, oh my...strong isn’t it?” He was smiling, a real smile and Kaleb looked longingly toward the kitchen, he could have stolen a few pitas, he knew they were freshly made, Mrs. Elan was so good at them...poured himself a drink while waiting for dinner to be served…

Instead he folded his arms over his chest as Hestor looked over the keys resting in the case. He had to be present, Hestor couldn’t go through keys alone, that was a rule, he’d been poisoned once and they’d barely saved him. He was very good at this, probably the best outside of the Academe professors themselves, and while he didn’t summon the spirits in the keys, just handling them could be dangerous and he had to do that to analyze the magic.

Had Zen or Presca been about either of them were perfect to help Hestor with this, Zen could identify the spirit with the key as soon as he touched it, and Hestor could look it all up and get the catalog information done. Presca, an energy mage, could read magical signatures and identify them, he didn’t even need to touch them to tell what magic was in them, but Hestor was still needed to identify what spirits were attached to what sorts of keys and magic.

There were 8 keys in the case that had been collected across the 7 branches over the last year, Kaleb swore Hestor almost drooled when he said he was touring the branches now because it meant when he got back, White Seas only celestial summoning mage got to do this.

He was about to resign himself to sitting down when Lucy suddenly appeared, eyes full of interest and the guildmaster smiled. Lucy was here visiting from Fiore with Bickslow, and had been spending time with Hestor learning some important basics she’d missed out on learning because Fiore had no formal education system for their magic community and the magic council there guarded information like fiends, crippling their own mage community by refusing access to sources of information that SHOULD have been accessible to all.

Bosco simply didn’t do that. While the mainstream education system offered little in magical training, guilds, especially White Sea, offered a lot. White Sea in the city named after the guild had a large school that taught mage children, information was made available to any mage who asked, training was readily available, tutors and mentors arranged whenever a need came up because Bosco had learned, well trained and guided mages...functioned better.

The military required registration at 15 for all mages, testing and assessments done to make sure the young mages were in the best possible environments for them, even working with neighboring countries in a student exchange program because for some magics, like Seith for example, Bosco wasn’t the best place, Stella was.

So, Lucy was there learning, Hestor grudgingly agreeing to mentor her for a month it made sense she was at the house instead of the guild in Pelerno.

Her presence? Meant Kaleb could probably peel off and go sneak some warm fresh pitas and a drink before dinner. 

“Keys?! How many? You didn’t mention Kaleb was bringing keys!” Lucy said suddenly, hurrying to the desk.

Hestor glared at her, holding out a hand to stop the woman before she invaded his space because she ALWAYS invaded his space, he could swear to any God selected she was like a damned octopuss at times...one with breasts she liked to smother people with.

“He always brings keys back from his branch tour and I always have to go through them. Now sit...there NOT next to me, and I’ll show you how this process works...don’t TOUCH!!!” He slapped her hand when she started reaching for the bright red key he had removed from the case and laid on a square of pale grey velvet.

Lucy retracted her hand shaking it and glared at him.

“Ok...you two are all set then? Wonderful, I’m going to the kitchen.” Kaleb said, eager to leave. Hestor waved a hand, completely unconcerned where Kaleb went after he had the case in his hands.

“Ok...so I have the list I think...the 10...Brothers of Ma’at...Ma’at, Abraxis, Eshaq, Naguib and…” She hovered.

“Sef, which are combat?” Hestor filled in. Lucy pressed her lips together. This was where the gaping holes in her education in Celestial Summoning and keys and spirits in general was glaring, and to her...painful. She realized now these were things she should KNOW, before going out and hunting keys, especially before contracting them, she should know what she was doing, and...she hadn’t. She’d assumed any key would work for any mage, they would all be friendly, she knew some were not combat, there were many many types of spirits attached to celestial keys.

Hestor sighed and rolled his eyes. “I have the 10 of the Hall, The brothers of Ma’at, of those 5 only Abraxis is a combat spirit, he’s good in close melee, a swords specialist, wonderful for sparring practice. The Sisters of Amitt, Amitt, Kek-t, Lethe, Ne’emah, Nanu, of the sisters, Kek-t is combat, she’s an assassin type, Amitt can fight but does not like to, she’s good as support with winds for distraction and misdirection though.” He said.

“And you have Ermine...who Plue adores…” Lucy grinned. Hestor absently reached into requip and pulled out his ring that did not hold the Ten, setting it down. 

“Let’s see you identify them, I’ve already told you what I have, now, put the spirits to the keys.” He said and Lucy beamed eagerly picking up the ring.

“Lynx, diversified combat and stealth, very pretty...a light key.” She began and Hestor nodded, not looking up from scanning through the first of a stack of books on keys he had pulled out with his ring.

Lucy took that as enough encouragement and slid the spotted silver key to the side, grinning at the white one with the “whisker” marks on the head. 

“Ermine, a silver key, the little thief, a very light key.” She grinned, Hestor rolled his eyes again.  
“Scutum, light magic, the shield, Crux, light magic, the grandfather of wisdom. Equuleus, the Trident or little foal, he’s a serious cutey, light magic, can be a small horse or form into a silver trident for combat.” She listed off, gaining another pained look from Hestor.

Some of these she had copies of herself, and she hadn’t known many silver keys had more than one copy as the spirits didn’t pull high magic so could form contracts with more than one mage.

“Delphinus, the dolphin, light magic and water spirit. Columba the dove, light magic, a messenger. Grus...the Crane, master of swords and spears, light magic, serious combat.” She fingered the white and red key, she hadn’t gotten to meet that one yet, Hestor was slowly working through all of his spirits with her, showing her which did what and, after talking about Grus and hearing there was another copy, she really really wanted one.

“Canis Major, the big dog, Canis Venatici, the hunting dogs...you like dogs huh?” She smiled and Hestor gave her a withering look that made her smirk. Gods help her she loved teasing the man, he was so damned easy…

The next one she wrinkled her nose at...she had gone with him...their key hunting trip with Zen had turned up this key and it hadn’t been a fun experience getting it. 

“Pavo, the peacock, twin spirits specializing in illusions and poisons, they seduce with beauty then poison, dulling the mind into a coma similar to the Lotus syndrome...dark key.” She said.

“But…” Hestor said not looking up and Lucy blew her bangs and rolled her eyes. 

“Not evil, just dark magic, and with a mage that has a strong will to keep the spirits in line, safe to use.” She supplied and Hestor nodded, returning to his scanning of the book before him.

“Continue…”

“Pegasus, the winged horse, light magic, transportation. Serpens, the serpent, poisons and combat, Dark key, safe to use and Ursa Major, the big bear, combat, light key.” She placed the ring down with a smug smile.

“Very good, now, here...start looking for this red key, don’t touch it though, the velvet squares are made for the Academe on Foxhaven by the Kitsune clan, they dampen and contain magic so the key is only safe to handle with the velvet, don’t let it touch your skin, feel the heat? Some sort of fire in it, or poison…” He warned and Lucy frowned, it was beautiful, glinting in the light like a gemstone but...she’d learned recently a little too well, touching a key before you knew what it was...wasn’t smart. She had a pouch full of those velvet squares now…

She’d learned a lot about Hestor the last few weeks, had thought him a complete ass at first and he wasn’t friendly, that was for sure, but, Hestor Kedanza was just...complex. He carried dark magic keys, a lot of them, but also held light, which at first she hadn’t believed but knew better now.

Kaleb had given her insight when she had sat on the mans desk glaring at him.

“How the fuck do you even LIKE that man let alone LOVE him?” She’d demanded, completely convinced Hestor was going to murder her in her sleep after they had argued over his magic aura being dark.

Kaleb, she had learned, was patient, kind, warm, loving and...sharp. He’d sent her own thoughts spinning a few times and, as Bickslow had warned her on the way to Bosco, the man was...stunning..she totally got the elf jokes. Tall, powerful successful, warm and loving Kaleb...was in love with Hestor Kedanza, and it mystified Lucy how that had happened. Hestor was...creepy, hostile, unfriendly and often..mean...verbally at least. 

He was from a village in the south of Bosco near the border with Stella where divers dove for clams and precious midnight pearls. His parents were not royalty, were not famous, and Hestor, aside from a nasty personality, seemed to have nothing to offer to Lucy, especially not to someone like Kaleb Pradesh, fifth wizard saint of Bosco, Master of White Sea. Yet...Kaleb loved the man, they were promised, Hestor wore a beautiful bracelet with peridots and pearls on it and Kaleb wore one just like it.

Hestors expressionless face though...softened around Kaleb, and she had seen now, when they were together, the looks Hestor gave Kaleb and vice versa. 

“He’s a good person Lucy, you just have to respect his boundaries, do that and he’ll be easier to get along with...such as...quit trying to hug the man, I swear he really will hurt you if you keep doing that.” Kaleb had said calmly.

She’d glared and Kaleb had rolled his eyes. “Lucy, I love him, I’ve loved him for years, since before I was Master of this guild, before my hair was blonde and I even knew what I wanted out of life, I loved him. I didn’t know it...took a long time to figure it out and he didn’t help with that.” He chuckled then shrugged.

“He’s special, precious to me, balances me in a way I can’t explain. He’s not perfect, he’s not always nice, he’s not even often friendly, but he is perfect...for me.” Kaleb had said and Lucys inner romantic had swooned. 

It had been enough she’d been determined to understand how such a prickly man could earn the love of a Wizard Saint, and...the loyal friendship of his entire family. Even Vander, light hearted optimistic devil may care Vander, seemed to love the silver haired mage.

“Relax sugar, Hes will come around, I’m telling you, he’s an ass? But he is White Seas favorite ass.” He chuckled and she’d seen that.

Hissing and spitting, Hestor would have all sorts of members come to say hello, ask him things, deliver things to him since his guild duties had increased after becoming the Masters promised. Not a one seemed put off by how Hestor acted. A few, like Emzadi, would brave hugging the man into her ample bosom while he snarled and flailed and threatened extreme bodily harm. Xally almost always leaned in and pecked his cheek, and Vander...well, she’d seen Vander lick the man and run more than once.

Thane genuinely liked him and said so when she asked how he got along having to work as Hestors aid and Kalebs at the same time. Until Hestor and Kaleb officially married, he wouldn’t have an aid of his own, but...Thane handled it, and..liked Hestor.

“He’s organized, he makes sure Kaleb eats, and...since he moved into the Guildmaster suites with Kaleb? I’ve seen our Master more rested and happier than he’s ever been since he took the position.” Thane had said. Then he’d gotten a small shadow over his eyes “I just have to keep up on making sure they get their sweets...Gods...both men...the guild needs to start keeping bees, I may speak to Beck about that….”

She sat then, skimming through the book, she now had a set of these, 8 books that listed every key currently known to exist on Earthland with a small description of the magic attached to them. She’d been...disgusted...learning they were given out to 8 year olds starting lessons at the Academe. Here she was in her 20s...getting her first set. She hadn’t even known they existed, because her father refused to let her learn anything about her magic.

“Bootes!” Lucy cried finding the key “The herdsman, it’s a light key!” She said and in her excitement, she grabbed it. Her magic sucked right into the key and in the next moment...some 30 fiery goats appeared all over the tea room and a burly man stood smiling at them as the animals ran all over...randomly eating curtains or...setting them on fire…

“LUCY!” Hestor cried as the big man laughed and there was a shriek in the kitchen as some of the goats ran in there following the divine smell of food.

“HESTOR!!!” Kalebs voice boomed followed by Arman emerging from his office and also yelling “Hestor!!” as Lucy...wide eyed...put the key down on the velvet square, Hestor shouting “CLOSE GATE OF THE HERDSMAN!” 

Lucy didn’t wait for it...she dashed out of the house at high speed to escape the shouts...but mostly to escape Hestor...who had blood in his eyes when she’d picked up the key...he’d told her...maybe...a thousand times not to bare handed grab keys...maybe…

As she pelted down the beach she begged aquarius to put out the curtains...then winced as a cackle came to her and more shouts as the windows of the tea room exploded out with water dumping an enraged Hestor on the deck.

"LUCY!!!!" Hestor raged and she wondered if she could run to Fiore from here…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hestor also holds the Bifrost keys, but he wasn't about to let Lucy anywhere near those. They are: Skadi, Idunn, Bragi, Jormungand , Nidogg, Yggdrasil and Loki


End file.
